If It Kills Me
by volatile-hearts
Summary: Tintin has unrequited feelings for Haddock. All he really wants to do is to love him, but if he gets caught he could be risking it all. And there's a lot he would miss in case he's wrong. Inspired by Jason Mraz's song, If It Kills Me.


A/N: Basically a song fic, but the lyrics are blatantly hidden within the text. Sorry, I'm not sorry.

I highly suggest listening to Jason Mraz's If It Kills Me (Casa Nova Sessions) while you read. All translations are at the end.

* * *

Some days Tintin would wake up in the morning praying that something had given him away and in the middle of night that the Captain had figured it out. And when he came down to breakfast, Haddock would greet him good morning and then perhaps while opening the newspaper, he would simply say, "Tintin, I know now." And Tintin would look at the Captain who would steadfastly not be looking at him, nonchalantly focusing on his morning time task. A smile break out across Tintin's face and Haddock would smile a small sweet grin in return. It would be such a beautiful moment, because finally, _finally_ the Captain knew the truth.

But every morning, he would swallow his disappointment behind a smile, because he and Haddock were just close friends. Because every morning, his desperate wishful thinking wouldn't be anything more than that, and the Captain would be none the wiser, peacefully unaware. This particular morning, Tintin was reading the paper after finishing his breakfast, and the Captain was sorting through the mail drinking his no doubt Irish coffee.

"Oh, barnacles," exclaimed Haddock after opening an envelope.

"What is it, Captain?" Tintin asked, folding the paper and setting it on the table.

"Eh, apparently the folks around are throwing some shindig for one Miss Eliza Maybury," he said squinting at the paper, " 'And you are cordially invited to celebrate the four-and-twentieth anniversary of her birth on this Thursday evening. Guests are expected to –' blah, blah, you read it."

Tintin caught the invitation that was tossed in his direction and notice that it was printed very neatly on fine stationary. It was a formal event to celebrate the girl's birthday; held just two estates to the south of Marlinspike Hall. "Sounds interesting, Captain. Do you plan on going?"

"Why? So I can be stuck in some fancy suit for an evening and get yammered at by lonely old rich ladies who want to pester me into marrying their granddaughters? No, thank you," he said gruffly, picking up his cup to take a sip.

"Aren't you the least bit curious to meet your neighbors?"

"I did that once, they were all throwing themselves at me in hopes that wedding bells would be ringing," he snorted, "As if I'd want to be bound to some hapless babe fresh from the crib for the rest of my life."

Tintin hid the wince, as the stab of rejection lanced through him. _Which of course is foolish_, Tintin berated himself, _It's not as if the comment was aimed directly at me_. It still stung, what with Tintin being 16 years the Captain's junior and only a year older than the Miss Maybury. It hurt knowing that the Captain didn't want someone so young. Another nail in the coffin of the hope that the Captain would ever return his affections.

"Well, I haven't met them yet, and it says hear you can bring one guest," Tintin proposed.

The Captain stared at him blankly, before rubbing his hands over his face and asking, "You really want to go? Why?"

"Why not? It'll be an adventure," Tintin said brightly.

"You and I, we get along much better than I do with those harpies," Haddock tried, "How about a nice quiet evening here? You, me, and Nester, just the three of us."

Tintin didn't say anything, merely waited, staring earnestly at the Captain.

"Oh, ectoplasms! Alright, fine!" he relented grumpily, "But if anything happens, it is your fault. I blame you."

"That's the spirit." Tintin smiled. Evenings spent in the study were usually his favorite time of the day. The two of them could sit, read, and quietly enjoying each other's company or they carry on for hours on end discussing every topic under the sun. But it would do them some good to change up the routine a bit and an evening with Haddock in whatever form was always an evening well spent.

#

He may have been mistaken. This evening was not turning out to be well spent, not at all. Tintin had erroneously assumed that the Captain was exaggerating about women getting thrown at him like little more than dead fish, and in fact, was now learning the only thing better in their opinions' than an eligible older gentleman who had recently come into great fortune was a single young man who also happened to be a world famous reporter. Tintin had been introduced to so many marriageable young ladies, he couldn't keep track of all their names, much to his chagrin.

Being too polite for his own good, Tintin tried to gently dissuade the gaggle of females that clustered around him. He had lost sight of the Captain a long time ago, and was attempting to sneak away to the refreshments table with little success. Just as he thought escaped, one of the bolder ladies in a lovely green dress, decided that they should dance together, with little consideration for Tintin's thoughts on the matter. He tried to voice them anyway. It was an admirable attempt.

"Please, I don't think you'll want me for a dance partner."

"Why ever not?" she said. He thought her name might have been Linda or perhaps Lydia, something with an L.

"Well, I don't know how to dance," he admitted. She stopped dragging him at that, and turned around to eye him critically

"That's just silly, sugar," she said at last, drawing herself up to her full height, and placed a dignified hand on her chest, "I, Lydia Moncrieff, will teach you."

_So it was Lydia._ "Oh... um."

"Good, now that's settled," she said, and dragged him the rest of the way to the section of floor that had been cleared for dancing. "Lindy Hop is all the rage in America. I stop by the Savoy whenever I am in New York. I am surprised that a world traveler like yourself has not heard of it. No matter, I have the utmost of confidence that you will be able to master it in no time."

"That's very kind of you but -" Tintin started but she was already facing him placing his hands in position, and pushing him about somewhat in beat to the jazz music played by the band.

"It's very simple, see? 8 counts total - start with a rock step, just like that. Triple step, step, step, triple step, and back to rock step."

Since it was either crush her toes or learn the dance, Tintin learned to Lindy Hop. And as per Lydia's prediction, he picked it up quite quickly. In no time, they were swinging across the dance floor, narrowly avoiding the other couples. Leading her in twists and turns - and even, one dynamic and memorable 'air-step' that had her flipping over his shoulder. After the seventh number ended, Lydia declared she would simply die of thirst if she did not get some punch, and left Tintin standing by the dance floor with a pleased smile. He heard a glass fall and crack on the ground and a muttered "Barnacles!"

Tintin turned around to find Haddock sitting in a nearby chair. The Captain scowled when he realized Tintin was looking at him. He leaned down to start gingerly pick up the glass fragments, and grumbled, "You appear to be having fun."

"Indeed, I am," Tintin said genially, "Who knew swing was quite so exhilarating?"

The Captain just grunted in response and scowled a little harder at the broken pieces, clearly having a less enjoyable time than Tintin.

"No need to be like that Captain," Tintin laughed, "Here, I'll teach you to dance - I just learned myself - but it really is quite fun! You should try it."

"I don't think -" But Tintin was already dragging him out of the chair.

"No, no. I insist," Tintin said pulling him onto the dance floor as Haddock gave up any pretense of resisting.

Haddock didn't pick it up quite as fast as Tintin had, and they didn't get to any of the fancy turns or tricks that Tintin had with Lydia, but by the end of it, Haddock had a happy flush to his cheeks that matched Tintin's. They only stopped when the band stopped playing and started to pack up. They left the party arm in arm. As they stumbled back into Marlinspike, Tintin reveled in the perfectness of the night, only wishing it didn't end with them heading off to separate bedrooms.

#

That night, he was plagued by dreams. Visions and fantasies that left him gasping when he woke sticky with sweat amongst other things, and hard as rock. Tintin wanted to scream in frustration. The sky wasn't exactly dark anymore, but it wasn't quite light yet either, instead it was that particular sort of non-grey that appears just before dawn. He forced the scream back down to avoid waking anyone.

Tintin felt that he could not go on like this for much longer without exploding. Some nights, like this, when the world was still asleep, it took everything he had to restrain himself from marching straight into the Captain's bedroom and demanding to kiss him. The only thing that held him back was the possibility that the Captain didn't want him that way, and would want nothing to do with Tintin after.

Marlinspike was his home. He lived here with Snowy, with the Captain, with Calculus, with Nestor, even that infernal Siamese cat. Regardless of his feelings for Haddock, they were a family - a very odd one albeit, but a family nonetheless. It was the first place he had called home in a long, long time. The apartment he rented before had been more like a place to live in between stories, but Marlinspike was something more, it was where he came back when his family was safe and sound after a dangerous adventure. He would be risking it all, everything that made him happy, everything he would miss dearly if gone, if he was _wrong_.

And that, that stopped him every time.

But it left him feeling hollow and empty, torn between to warring desires that never made enough headway to win over the other. Never strong enough to either force him to give up his foolish dreams or to chance his home at Marlinspike Hall and his place in Haddock's life.

Snowy whined from his position curled by Tintin's feet. Tintin patted his head reassuringly. Then sighed as he got up to go to the bathroom and take care of the aching need that weighed heavy between his legs.

#

The morning after night like these always made Tintin nervous. He feared (rather irrationally he knew) that there would be something glaringly different about him, that would read like a giant neon sign "Hi, I thought about you while pleasuring myself last night." No one ever noticed, but every time it happened he felt like he was getting away with something, slipping by without getting caught like a spy leading a secret double life. It wasn't healthy for him, nervousness and guilt stole his appetite. And today was no different. The extra alcohol that the Captain was adding to his coffee just further exasperated the problem, and all Tintin could manage was to push his eggs around with his fork.

"Are the eggs not to your liking, Mister Tintin?" Nestor inquired.

"What?" Tintin said dazedly.

"You haven't touched your plate, lad," Haddock pointed out.

"Oh no, they're fine, Nestor. Just feeling a bit under the weather," he lied.

"Do you think you're coming down with something?" Haddock asked worriedly.

Touched by the sentiment, Tintin said, "It's nothing some fresh air can't cure." The warmth in the Captain's voice already banishing the fears that had tormented him in the night, leaving Tintin feeling more like his normal self, as he stood to leave. "C'mon Snowy, let's go for a walk."

#

Late in the afternoon, Tintin got a telephone call from Miss Moncrieff. She wanted to thank him for a wonderful evening the night before.

"I fear I am more indebted to you, Miss Moncrieff," he said, "I cannot be more thankful to you for teaching me to dance."

"It was my pleasure, and do call me Lydia," she replied, her voice filtering through the background static on the line, "Actually, I had another reason for calling, my dear Tintin."

"Oh?" he said, intrigued.

"You see, you were the best dance partner I have had in ages. And I think with a little polish you would be an excellent Lindy Hopper," she said, "In fact, you could accompany me to the weekly meetings in London."

"Oh?" he said, a tad fearfully this time._  
_

"Yes, you see, my fiancé can be a terrible bore - I love him dearly, mind you - but he simply refuses to come dancing with me," she told him.

"Your fiancé?" Tintin repeated dumbly.

"Yes, he won't come with me. Complains that jazz music hurts his ear, but what does he know? And well, after last night, I thought, that Tintin, he certainly knows how to cut a rug. And I said to myself, Lydia, you silly girl, you should ask him to be your dance partner! There is no way Robert could object if he knew you were going to be accompanied by a world-famous reporter! So I put it upon myself to call the moment I free today." she explained, "So what do say, sugar, would you be my escort and partner from the hours of 5:00 p.m. to 7:00 p.m. on Thursday evenings?"

Tintin felt like laughing. He had worried that she was going to lure and entrap him under the guise of dancing. But hearing her complain about her reluctant fiancé felt like a weight had been lifted.

"Miss Moncrieff," he said, not quite able to keep a laughing lilt out of his voice, "I would be delighted to be your partner Thursday evening."

"Splendid!" she cried, "Would you mind if I popped over say around 11:00 tomorrow, and we could practice more of the lifts?"

"Not at all," Tintin said, "I will see you at eleven."

"'Til then, _mon cher_," she bid him farewell, then hung up the phone. (1)

Tintin mimicked her, and replaced the receiver on the cradle. Snowy barked excitedly at his feet.

"Well, that was unexpected," he told the terrier, before leaning down to scratch Snowy behind the ears affectionately. "But not unpleasant, let's go inform the Captain of our plans."

#

The next morning and afternoon went surprisingly well, but Tintin was rather astonished by the amount of steps he would have to practice. It left him feeling a tad overwhelmed. Normally learning a new skill came effortlessly to him, but apparent the Lindy Hop didn't know that, and had him tripping over is feet every time they attempted a more complex step. Seeing his growing frustration, Lydia decided that was enough for the day, claiming she felt a headache coming on, and absolutely must be home before it hit her fully. But as she collected her things by the door delicately putting on her gloves, she told Tintin not to lose hope.

"I'll leave you with a few of my records; you should practice on your own, too," Lydia advised him, as Nestor helped her into her coat, "Thank you, dear."

Nestor nodded in response, then left to attend to his other duties.

"_Salut__, mon cher_," she said kissing Tintin's cheek before placing her beret on her head, tilting it just so, "Take care." (2)

"Good-bye, Lydia," Tintin said and closed the door after her. While he found struggling with the new steps irritating, it was a welcome relief. The task required enough of his attention that it took his mind off of his infatuation with Haddock. He looked down at Snowy, who cocked his head in question.

"What do you think Snowy? Should I keep practicing?"

"Arooo," Snowy whined in response.

"Hmm, I think Lydia had the right idea. No more practicing today," Tintin said, starting to walk towards the dinning room, "Let's go see if supper's ready. Shall we?"

Snowy just yipped happily, darting around his legs as the walked on. He was so distracted by Snowy's antics and his own thoughts that he nearly ran into the Captain.

"Careful, Tintin," Haddock admonished, "With your head in the your head in the clouds, you're likely to walk off a cliff without realizing it."

"Sorry, Captain. Just a bit preoccupied is all."

"You're not usually one for daydreaming, my boy," said Haddock, falling in step with Tintin, "What's on your mind?"

"I'm afraid you'll find it silly," Tintin said.

"Girl problems?" Haddock asked mischievously, before exclaiming gleefully "Well, I never thought I'd see the day!"

Tintin must have imagined it but he thought that had sounded a little forced.

"It's not like that, at all," he tried to object, "It's just -"

"What?" Haddock smirked, "Can't think of the perfect poetry to woo her?"

"No, Captain," Tintin said smartly, "It's just I'm accustomed to learning new material easily."

"Oh, really Wonder-boy?" the Captain said, still insufferable.

"Yes." Tintin blew out a frustrated huff. "But I keep hitting roadblocks with the moves we practiced today."

Haddock clapped a companionable hand on Tintin's shoulder. "Don't worry, Wonder-boy," he said kindly, "I'm sure you'll get it eventually."

They paused in front of the door to the dining room, both unwilling to break the comfortable silence, and not quite able to break eye contact. A bell chimed somewhere and the spell was broken; Haddock coughed and glanced away.

"Why don't we see what Nestor's cooked up this time, eh?"

"Of course, Captain," Tintin said wistfully, but the Captain was already bustling into the room, and didn't hear him.

#

It was the third day that Tintin had been practicing by himself and it was going horribly, if the fist sized hole in the wall was anything to go by.

Haddock was currently staring at said hole int he wall, having just walked into the room.

"I don't think that was there before. Care to explain?" he said.

"Not. Really."

The Captain waited a moment, watching Tintin glare at the wall in his standard plus fours and a plain white polo shirt.

"Alright, enough of that."

"What?" said Tintin not stopping, just momentarily pausing his staring contest with the wall, to look at Haddock.

"Teach me whatever fancy-dress dance move made you punch my wall."

"I don't understand."

Haddock huffed, like he expected Tintin to be brighter than this. "Look my Granddad used to say that you didn't know how to do something until you could explain to somebody else."

"So?"

"So, teach me to dance," he said gruffly.

At first, Tintin was so startled by the request, words left him. Then he burst out laughing.

"Alright, alright," the Captain said angrily , "Gallows-fodder, boy! No need to make a spectacle of it! Just tell me you don't want to dance with me, for heaven's sake!"

Haddock had started to storm out of the room when Tintin caught him by the sleeve of his blue sweater. Still somewhat chuckling, Tintin clarified, "No, no, Captain. It's not that I don't want to dance with you. It's just when you offered to be my partner, you looked so grumpy as if it were painful to ask. You just surprised me, is all."

Haddock pulled his arm out of Tintin's grasp and straightened his sweater, grumbling the whole while; looking so positively miffed that Tintin had to stifle another round of giggles. Finally he stopped, standing at attention and looking at Tintin expectantly.

They both nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard a record scratch and turned to see Snowy nosing the needle into place, as lively little number - "Sing Sing Sing," if he wasn't mistaken - played through the speakers. Snowy barked, clearly proud of his work. Tintin laughed heartily, good mood restored, before offering he hand to Haddock, saying with a glint in his eyes, "If I should be so bold, Captain, may I have this dance?"

The Captain gave him a wry look, rolled his eyes and took Tintin's extended hand, which just made Tintin grin more. Then they were off. Haddock apparently had remembered much what he was taught last Friday night. After the last trumpet note sang out, Tintin turned off the record, began to take Haddock to the new steps one by one.

Amazingly enough Haddock was right, having to explain and reexplain the moves suddenly made them plain as day to him, flowing as easily as nearly everything else. It took a lot of patience to teach Haddock, much more than Tintin had been willing to give himself, but they did make slow continuous progress. Although, there were a number of times that the Captain would swear up a storm, making Tintin laugh joyfully, if only because the moment the cursing would stop, the Captain would be right back at it trying twice as hard, and Tintin would be right there with him.

In one fit of rage, Haddock tore off his thick wool sweater leaving only the thin undershirt that clung to the body that had been hardened and shaped by years spent at sea. He looked quite handsome with the golden afternoon light streaming through the windows. Tintin _might _have blanked out for a bit while staring, because the next thing he knew the Captain had thrown the sweater at his face with remarkable aim, yelling, "Ten thousand thundering typhoons, boy! Don't just stand their gawking! Show it to me one more time!"

Tintin pulled the blue material away from his face. "Right," he said a bit hoarsely, before clearing his throat, "How about this we'll just start from the top and go through it at quarter speed?"

Haddock grunted, and swiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. Tintin took up his place again, and slowly began leading Haddock through the steps. There was an unfortunate implication of going through the dance so slowly. It meant that the moments would normally have been brief points of contact turned into pressing up against each other for long periods of time.

There was one move that was the most exquisite torture. They would be faced front to back, so that if one of them was just slightly off the beat, they would collide and Haddock's entire back would be flush against Tintin's chest. Tintin could have sworn that he had bitten through his lip suppressing any moan that tried to fight its way out. It was wretched to be so close, but still not have. But it was wonderful all the same, to be so close at all.

Close to the three hour mark, Haddock missed a step, nearly face-planting on the hardwood floor, only to be caught by Tintin in a last minute save. They ended up with Haddock's nose awkwardly smashed into Tintin's bicep, arms clutching at each other equally awkward angles. Cautiously, they began to right themselves, until finally they were standing face to face, Tintin looking up into Haddock's eyes. A flush had creeped into Haddock's face. Tintin wondered if it was the fall.

"Are you alright, Captain?"

Haddock shook his head, seeming to come out of a daze, before taking a half step back and clapping Tintin twice on the shoulder, "Fine, fine." A cough. "I should be going. But don't tell me you haven't mastered those moves now, eh?"

Tintin smiled ruefully, "All thanks to you no doubt."

"Ah," the Captain said retrieving his sweater, "Knew you had it you, just gave you the little push you needed to get along."

Just as Haddock got to the door, Tintin called out sincerely, "Thank you."

Haddock turned back and smiled warmly at him, "My pleasure, Tintin."

#

Lydia stopped by the next morning, just to check in. She was pleasantly surprised when they danced a number, and Tintin almost out did her. In fact, she was so ecstatic by his progress after a few short days, she leapt into his arms at the end of the song, throwing her arms around his neck, and kissing him all over his face. When he set her, down she was still babbling excitedly as they heading towards the door.

"Oh _mon cher_, you have no idea how thrilling this is! We are going to have a ball tonight! Now, I absolutely must run, Robert has caught a bit of a cold and I promised to pop by the chemist's and pick up some cough syrup for him. But don't worry your pretty little head, my dear Tintin, I will still be at your door at 4:30 precisely. Robert - I love him to bits - said, his runny nose shouldn't stop me from having a good time. Good-bye, _chéri_." (3)

"Good-bye, Lydia. I will see you at 4:30 precisely," Tintin smiled.

Lydia returned the smile, then headed down the walkway in a brisk, assured manner. Tintin just shook his head, as he shut the door. Her enthusiasm was infectious.

"I was right!" Haddock crowed from his seat on the stairs, "It was girl problems."

Tintin just rolled his eyes, good-naturedly, then complained to Snowy who was right on his heels per usual, "I've tried to tell him before, but he just won't listen."

"Oh, you can fool your dog, but you can't fool me," Haddock said, pointing his pipe at them in a playful threat, before placing it back in his mouth to light it, "You were trying to impress her, weren't you?" Tintin just looked at him blankly. "That's why you wanted to learn all those fancy dance routines. Well, I think we can say your plan work perfectly judging by _that_ little display."

Haddock winked conspiratorially, and Tintin rolled his eyes, "If you think I'm going to pursue her, you are quite mistaken, Captain."

"Oh why not?" Haddock argued, "You're a handsome young lad, she a lovely young lass. What's the problem here?"

"Let's just say I've got my eye on someone else, and they quite unknowing hold my heart in their hand," Tintin said, resolutely not looking at the Captain, preferring to pet Snowy who had jumped up and placed his paws on Tintin's leg.

"Hmm." The Captain eyed Tintin critically, and smoked a few puffs of his pipe before asking, "Will you tell me who it is?"

Tintin laughed softly, "No, I think not,"

"Why? C'mon, tell me," Haddock pleaded, as he got up to walk with Tintin to lunch, "You can trust me, Tintin."

Tintin laughed, more genuinely this time, "But what's life without a little mystery, Captain?"

"Mystery is all well and good, but not in love," he said falling into step with Tintin, "What if they try to break the heart, you have so generously given them, hmm? If you don't tell me their name, how will I be able to beat them to pieces? Be reasonable, Tintin."

Tintin just smiled, "Don't worry, Captain, I have the greatest of confidence that you will be able to protect my heart, regardless."

"I'll work it out eventually, lad. You're not the only one who can play detective!"

"Sure, Captain," Tintin allowed.

"Hmpf," Haddock muttered, returned to quietly smoking his pipe. An easy silence settling between them as they made their way through the halls of Marlinspike.

#

Everything about the night said that he should be having the time of his life - a jaunty tune, a carefree crowd, and a lovely girl to dance with. Instead, Tintin found himself sitting at the bar rather desolate. The joint was an amazing place - oddly progressive and understanding, with several interracial couples and even some same-sex couples mingling in the sea of people. But just seeing the happy pairs enjoying the night made Tintin feel melancholy. As much as he adored Lydia's company and her effervescent personality, he far more wished he could be experiencing this with the Captain.

"What's the matter, sugar?" Lydia said, plopping down into the seat next to him.

"Sorry, did you want to dance again?" Tintin said, moving to get up, but Lydia stopped him, placing a hand on his forearm, and gently pressing down.

"No," she said kindly, "I want you to tell me what's bothering you."

He sighed as he sat down.

"A person only sighs like that when they're in love."

"What?"

"No one sighs like that unless they're in love, so who's the girl who got your heart in a twist? You can tell me, who is she?"

Tintin stared at the mostly empty glass of beer in his hand. He had only known her a few days, but no one had ever figured it out on their own before. He still felt unsure if he could trust her, but he was certain if he didn't tell someone he would collapse under the weight of it. Finally, he murmured, "Not a she," and knocked back the rest of his drink.

"Oh," Lydia paused. "Well, then tell me about him."

"And you're okay with that?" he asked tentatively.

"I sure as shortcakes didn't choose to fall in love with Robert. I can't imagine you chose to fall in love with this man."

"No, no," Tintin conceded, then laughed bitterly, "No, I was pretty helpless against it. Right from the start."

"Does he know?"

"No," Tintin said miserably, "I want to tell him. If only to live with one day where to I know that he knows. To tell him how long I've waited and wished to be his. But… I never said a word.

"I guess one day, I'm gonna miss my chance." Tintin went to take another drink of his beer, only to be reminded it was gone. He frowned at the empty glass.

"Oh _pauvre_," Lydia said sadly, "Why haven't you told him?" (4)

"He's my closest and best friend. I can't mess this up with him. I just - I couldn't," he said, voice breaking.

"Oh, my dear, dear Tintin," Lydia condoled, weaving her arm through the crook of his elbow, and leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. They sat there, staring - and at least in Tintin's case - quite blankly at his empty glass.

"To quote a famous playwright," she said, disentangling herself and signaling to the bartender, " 'Alcohol is the anesthesia by which we endure the operation of life.' Today, I think the only thing to do tonight is to be utterly blitzed.

"Two sidecars with a shot of whiskey on the side, and keep them coming," she instructed the bartender. He nodded and went about to complete her order.

"I don't think it is a good idea," said Tintin reluctantly.

"Of course, it isn't, but we're still doing it," Lydia informed him.

"Why _are_ you doing?"

"Because _mon ami_, (5) you don't not let friends drink alone. _Santé_," she said, and handed him his shot. (6)

"Cheers," he returned. They clinked glasses and downed the first of many shots for the night.

#

Surprise, surprise, getting blitzed was a bad idea. In actuality, it was a terrible idea, and now the two of them were stumbling back to Marlinspike, barely standing up. The only reason they didn't fall over was because of the mutual support they provided by leaning against each other.

Tintin had taught Lydia a sea-shanty he had learned from Captain Haddock while they were on the _Aurora_, and were now belting it out at the tops of their lungs, as Snowy trotted behind them at a sedate pace. Little by little, they made their way up the gravel path that lead to the sea captain's impressive manor, tripping only occasionally, and pausing only temporarily in their singing to accommodate the random burst of giggles. About two thirds of the way there, the front doors burst open slipping light onto the ground.

"BILLIONS OF BLUE BLISTERING BARNACLES!"

"Captain!" Tintin called happily, as the man stormed down the steps.

"Tintin!" Lydia chastised, "You've messed it up! We still have to finish it."

"Oh, right." Tintin blinked slowly, turning to look at her. They sang,

_"__For we're the boys to kick her through_

_Go down you blood red roses, go down_

_Oh, you pinks and pos-"_

They were interrupted by a red-faced Haddock who yelled, "Just what in blue blazes do you sea-gherkins think you're doing?"

He shouted so loudly that he drowned out their singing, and for a moment they were struck quite dumb. Then, Tintin said very solemnly, and just a tad too seriously in the way that only drunks can, "Commiserating."

"Well," Lydia clarified, sliding further and further into Tintin, "I'm commiserating, he's just miserating."

"Thass notta word," Tintin slurred.

"Yes, it is," Lydia shot back.

"Tintin!" the Captain said sharply, "You said you would be back at 7:30. It's bloody well past midnight, now!"

"Oh, we were going to come back when the dancing ended," Tintin said airly, "But the bartender kept getting us free drinks." Tintin gasped. "I think he was flirting with you, Lydia!"

Lydia snorted unattractively, and said, "He was flirting with you, _chéri_, not me."

"Well, he had about a snowball's chance in hell, didn't he?" Tintin asked sardonically. The two of them burst into laughter, again; the bout ending with the two of them wheezing and several inches closer to the ground.

Haddock had stopped dead in his tracks during the exchange. As they finally regained their breath, Haddock groaned and ran a hand over his face, before saying, "You're drunk."

"Completely loaded," Tintin snickered.

"Nestor!" Haddock hollered over his shoulder. He turned back to Tintin. "You look like you're about to fall over," he pointed out.

"Probably," Tintin grinned. The pain of his unrequited devotion to the Captain seemed far away now, distant and numb. It was quiet pleasant.

"Yes, sir?" Nestor appeared at Haddock's side.

"Help Miss Moncrieff into the house; I think we'll have to call her a taxi," he directed, "I'll get Tintin."

Lydia and Tintin eased apart, each deposited with their designated caretaker. Haddock slung Tintin's right arm over his shoulder, wrapped an arm around his waist, and slowly began leading Tintin inside.

Tintin tucked his head against the Captain's shoulder so that the bridge of his nose and his forehead were pressed against the Captain's neck. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, relishing the heady scent of salt, the sea, and Haddock's personal tobacco blend. He smelt like home and safety.

"You smell good," Tintin mumbled into skin.

"That's nice, boy," Haddock said tiredly, as the climbed the stairs.

As they walked through the entrance way, Nestor said, "If you will follow me this way, Miss Moncrieff, I can telephone a taxi for you."

"Don't be silly. I will just call Robert. He will send someone for me." Her voice was drifting further and further away. Tintin realized that he was headed up the stairs, and that's way her voice was getting fainter.

His opened his eyes, and twisted in Haddock's grip to look back and call out, "_Au revoir_, Lydia. It appears I am off to bed with the Captain." (7)

"Oh, you dog!" she cried out delightedly.

Tintin laughed heartily, and shouted back, "If only I should be so lucky!"

"_Bonne nuit, mon pauvre fou_," she departed. (8)

Tintin attempted to face the right direction, but mostly ended up tripping over his feet. Haddock caught him, saying, "Careful, Tintin, don't need to add another head injury to the list."

He repositioned the younger man, and then continued up the stairs. Tintin felt like prolonging the contact and dragged his feet as much as possible, letting nearly all his weight rest on Haddock. About half-way up they heard a "_Mon_ _cœur, tu m'as manqu__é_!" echo in the house that made them pause in their trek. (9)

As they started on again, Tintin mused wistfully, "Is it bad that I am jealous of Lydia? She has Robert."

"What?"

"Every night she gets to go home to the person she loves," Tintin said plaintively, swaying slightly, "All I really want to do is go home to you, to love you."

"You do that already, I'm your friend," Haddock said stiffly.

"No, not that kind of love," Tintin lamented, "A kind much closer than friends use." Haddock froze at that, but Tintin couldn't understand why. They were no where near the rooms, barely past the top of the stairs. Tintin kept talking to fill the silence, "I can't tell you. I've faced down gangsters and smugglers and mal- malnovent- malev- very bad men … with guns … but I still can't say it."

Tintin was glaring at the carpet.

"Come on, lad," Haddock said tightly, "It's long past time you were in bed."

"Even after all we've been through," Tintin told the carpet, as he allowed himself to be jostled towards his room. After a few moments of their slow shamble down the hallway, Tintin looked up.

"Lydia says I'm a fool."

"Is that so?" Haddock said, indulging him.

"Yes," Tintin said resolutely, "She thinks I should tell you."

Tintin waited a beat for Haddock to respond, as one did in polite conversation. Then whispered to Haddock, "Not to worry, though - ow." He tried to bring a hand up to his mouth to whisper secretively but failed and hit himself in the face instead. "Not to worry, I explained to her, I couldn't possibly endanger our friendship. Marlinspike is my home, and I would be damned if I did anything to lose that."

There was a moment of silence, before Haddock asked quietly, "Is that true, Tintin. Is Marlinspike your home?"

Tintin rolled his head at Haddock, looked at him funny, looked forward again, and plainly said, "Of course, it is. Snowy and I - where's Snowy?"

"By your feet, lad."

"Oh." Tintin looked down to see Snowy grinning a happy dog smile at him, "Hi, Snowy."

Snowy barked in return.

"No but - Marlinspike is our home, now. And all I really want from you is to feel me as the feeling inside keeps building. But if I did that Captain," Tintin said as he turned look at Haddock, with the most honest expression, unbeknown to him all his worst fears exposed plainly on his face, "If I did that, if you hated me for it, you would kick me out of Marlinspike Hall. I think it might kill me."

"Tintin," Haddock said heartbroken, "I could _never_ hate you."

"Yes, but -" Tintin started, looking so hopelessly lost, stepping back from the Captain, "But _if_ you did, I would lose Marlinspike, I would lose my home, I would lose _you_."

Before he could get more than a couple paces away Haddock pulled Tintin into his chest, and wrapped his arms around him in a crushing embrace. Tintin gripped the sweater tightly, his knuckles turning white.

"Tintin, you are always welcome here," Haddock said, speaking mostly into Tintin's hair, "Marlinspike will always be your home, so long as you'll have it.

"As for me, well, I'm afraid, you're stuck with me. I'll be looking out for you on those fool's errands you call adventures from now until the end of time. There is _nothing_ you can do to get rid of me. You understand?"

Tintin nodded into Haddock's shoulder.

The stood their silently Tintin was trying vainly to understand what was happening, but it all keep spinning out his reach, so that only thing he understood for sure, was that he was safe in Haddock's arms. Everything else just made him dizzy.

"My head hurts," he mumbled into the comforting blue fabric.

Haddock didn't say anything, just unwrapped one arm, and reached back to twist the doorknob with his right hand. Without letting go, he walked the two of them over to Tintin's bed. He eased open Tintin's clenched fists, willing him to let go of the sweater. With a slight push, he sat Tintin down on the edge of the bed, and began taking off his shoes. Once he was done with that, he stood to leave, but Tintin's hand had found it's way back to his sweater, the one Tintin vaguely realized he had not changed out of, despite it being the dead of night when most people would have long switched into nightwear.

Haddock sighed heavily, "Go to sleep, Tintin."

Tintin was still frowning in the direction of the piece sweater he had a hold of. "I will find a way to you," he said determined, and then looked directly into Haddock's eyes, "I _will_ find a way to you if it kills me."

"Sometimes I l- care for you so incredibly much, it just doesn't seem fair."

"If it kills me," Tintin repeated stubbornly.

Haddock nudged Tintin's shoulder to get him to lie down, he complied this time, and Haddock just lifted the covers, helping Tintin under them, before arranging them neatly around Tintin, who was quickly dozing off.

The Captain got up and moved to the door. Pausing with his hand on the handle, casting one last longingly look at the sleeping reporter; before shutting the door and heading off to drink himself into a stupor.

#

The next morning, Tintin regretted every life decision he had ever made. His head was threatening to crack in two, and the pain was starting to make him delirious. He tried to hide from the world beneath his pillow, but it didn't work.

Someone crept quietly into his room and left a cool glass of water and a couple of aspirin on the bedside table. _Must be Nestor_, Tintin figured, and reaching out gingerly to grab the aspirin and swallow them dry.

While waiting for the drugs to dull the headache, Tintin tried to recall the night before. He remembered several alcoholic drinks, and a fast downhill slide, but that was it. There were a few brief flashes - the smell of the sea, the feel of Haddock's sweater, someone hugging him - but they too fleeting to really tell him anything.

When Tintin was feeling remotely human, he brushed his teeth, and put on a fresh shirt in weak attempt at looking presentable for breakfast, and headed downstairs.

He flopped into a seat at the table with a muttered, "morning." Across from him, Haddock grunted back a reply, one elbow propped up on the table supporting his head. Apparently, Tintin didn't have to worry about looking presentable, the Captain looked far worse for wear, as if he hadn't gotten any sleep; it was a little reminiscent of the morning after he tried to drink an entire case of Loch Lomond in a single day.

"Is there something particular you would like this morning?"

"Hmm, what? Oh, no thank you, Nestor," Tintin said, "Just tea for me."

"Of course, sir."

Tintin pressed the pads of his fingers into his temples, hoping it would alleviate some of the tension in his head. He groaned, "What time did I come in last night?"

"You mean, you don't remember?" Haddock said looking up.

"No."

"Half an hour past midnight."

Tintin dropped his hands in shock and looked at the Captain with wide eyes. A long time ago, they decided that they would always meet up at specified times and places or send a message in their stead if they were safe; if they failed to meet either requirement, it meant the other was in serious danger. A habit that had spilled over from their adventures and into their everyday lives. "Did I at least send you a note that I was going to be so late?"

"No," Haddock said roughly.

"Captain, I am so sorry," Tintin said sincerely.

Haddock folded his arms on the table, then rested his forehead on his arms, effectively hiding his face, before saying, "I thought something might have happened. Five hours is a long time."

Tintin stood and walked around the table. He crouched next to the Captain's chair on the left side, laying a comforting hand on his knee, and resting the other on the wooden arm of the chair.

"Captain, I am so sorry. I never meant to cause you distress; I can't imagine what I was thinking."

The Captain lifted his head and cracked a tired smile.

"It's alright, lad," he said turning to face Tintin and dropped a hand to Tintin's shoulder, "The distress is part of being stuck with you for life."

"Stuck with me?" Tintin echoed uncertainly. Something about the phrase tickled something in the back of his mind - memories struggling to resurface. With all the suddenness of a flash flood, the events of the night before came racing back. He clutched the Captain's knee in a death grip as the memories came back in a sickening vividness.

"Tintin? Tintin?" Haddock was asking worriedly.

Tintin blinked. His mouth worked uselessly, before he got out a stilted, "Captain, I-"

"It's alright. I'm guessing you remember last night," Haddock said, firming holding Tintin's neck with his left hand and Tintin's bicep in his right, preventing the younger man from fleeing, "Then, that means you also remember I said there is nothing you could do to scare me off, right?"

Tintin released his death grip, and breathed, "Right."

Haddock relaxed his hold, and said as he began to drawn away, "Besides, who could blame you for the fictions your drunken alter-ego was spouting?"

For that spilt second, Haddock's remorse and sheer broken-heartedness were not hidden under his jesting words. And in that spilt second, Tintin was angered by the thought that Haddock would brush aside his confession - drunk or not - so easily.

Impulsively, he removed his hand from the Captain's knee and to place it at the base of Haddock's skull and draw him into a kiss as Tintin rose to meet him. For one blissful moment it was perfect.

Then the full reality of what he had just done cashed in on him, reluctantly, Tintin pulled back to look into Haddock's eyes, who had frozen in his seat. Seconds crept by, the surprise of what had just happened wore off, and the absolute stillness started to suffocate Tintin. _What did I just do?_ he thought, _Why is he so quiet? The Captain is _always _loud. How bad can this be if he's quiet?_

Tintin tried to back-pedal quickly, "This was a mistake. I'm sor-"

"Please, don't," Haddock interrupted, squeezing Tintin's arm in a silent plea. Tintin waited, rooted to the spot, hardly daring to breathe. "Please," his voice took on a devastated quality, "Don't say that say that was mistake, Tintin, please don't. I don't think I could take it if…"

Haddock dropped his gaze, gently resting his head against Tintin's collarbone.

"What?" Tintin forced the word out.

Haddock didn't answer.

"Captain," Tintin asked desperately, "If _what_?"

"If you took away the thing I never allowed myself to hope for," Haddock finally admitted.

The most brilliant grin broke out over his face, and with a rush of giddiness, Tintin placed his hands along Haddock's cheeks and jaw - beard brushing against his palms - and lifted his face to look him in the eyes and ask, "Do you want this?"

"Tintin, I don't-"

"Captain, do you want this? Please, say yes, please tell me you want this. That just friends isn't good enough," Tintin leaned down to touch his forehead to Haddock's, "Because it is no where near good enough for me."

Haddock made some sort of strangled noise, and Tintin just grinned harder - if that was possible - as Haddock pulled him into a kiss, yanking him forward by sides of his shirt.

#

The following morning was not quite as memorable, Nestor didn't walk in and startle them both an exasperated "finally," but it was still pretty amazing. Tintin walked down to breakfast - markedly cleaner and less hungover than the previous morning - same as usual. But this time, when he found Haddock scowling at a piece of expensive stationary, he greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

"Morning," Tintin said and he reached over the Captain's shoulder to reach a muffin, and to read the offending piece of paper.

"Can you believe this?" Haddock exclaimed, "They're having another one of those birthday receptions."

"I thought it was fun," Tintin remarked, spreading some butter over his muffin, and taking a bite.

"No, we are not going back, I nearly died," he exaggerated, "Drowning under a sea of old harpies."

"Just tell them that you're not single," Tintin said after swallowing.

Haddock snorted. "They won't believe me."

"Well then, we'll just have to proven that your taken."

"How do you proposed to we do that?"

"Oh, something like this." Tintin smiled before kissing his Captain.

# # #

(1) _mon cher_ = my dear

(2) _salut_ = good-bye (informal)

(3) _chéri_ = darling

(4) _pauvre_ = poor thing

(5) _mon ami_ = my friend

(6) _santé_ = cheers

(7) _au revoir_ = good-bye

(8) _bonne nuit, mon pauvre fou_ = goodnight, my poor fool

(9) _Mon_ _cœur, tu m'as manqu__é_! = my heart, I missed you!

"Alcohol is the anesthesia by which we endure the operation of life." ~ Bernard Shaw


End file.
